


It's Called Dating

by aykayem



Series: Satisfaction [10]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 19:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: Every party has to end sometime, but this one's just getting started.





	It's Called Dating

**Author's Note:**

> The rest of the engagement party had gone about as Isabelle has expected it to go. Definitely not all that exciting and filled with far too much schmoop - arguably not a word, so said Magnus, but she was vehement that it was used often enough that it totally counted - but the fact that they were finally able to leave was good enough for her. A good party was great and all, but there was nothing better than a terrible party. Or more accurately, leaving one. She kept her hand in Magnus' for the duration of time it took to get back to his apartment, and then she dared to laugh, to let go and pull his body against hers just outside his door. It was public, sure, but every now and then, she liked a little excitement; they both knew that it wouldn't get that far out in the open, nor when they had a perfectly good bed just inside.

His hands skimmed up her sides, playing against the soft fabric of her dress in a slowed down version of their earlier encounter, his mouth finding hers for a firm kiss, their lips parting immediately. Isabelle hummed into it as they tasted and explored the other's mouth with their tongues, her hands tangling in his hair before she reached back, seeking out the doorknob. The kiss only broke as she got it open and smirked at him. "Come on, lover boy. You know I prefer a little privacy."

"You were the one who pulled me against you, Lightwood," Magnus told her with a pleased smile, his fingers clasping a wrinkle of fabric to keep her near. She simply laughed, shaking her head a little as they moved through the apartment, stepping around Chairman Meow; it didn't take long to find the wall opposite the bedroom, Isabelle leaning casually against it yet again for another long kiss. Magnus' hands found the hem of her dress, dragging it lazily upwards. They only broke the kiss to peel the garment off, tossing it aside to once again litter his floor with her clothing. "I feel like this is becoming a habit," he said after a moment, looking admiringly down at her.

"That's because it is," she returned, rolling her eyes. "It's called 'dating'. Try it sometime."

"Maybe next week. I've got this girl I'm partial to seeing naked, and I'm not sure I want to give that up anytime soon."

Isabelle laughed again, swatting at him before his mouth was on hers again, both of them failing both at hiding their smiles and at kissing properly. Not that it mattered much in the long run: their hands were on each other once again, hers working first on his shirt, his tie, his vest. Each article of clothing made it to the floor with a soft sound, barely audible under the sound of their mouths on one another and the muffled laughs and groans that followed. But finally they made it off to the bedroom when Isabelle dragged him by the hips against her again, leaning back against the wall as her hands slid down the back of his trousers, cupping his ass for a moment before she focused her attention on getting those same trousers open and shimmied down his legs.

Magnus laughed again against her mouth as Izzy grunted with effort, leaning down to push them down his thighs. Only once they dropped down to pool around his ankles did her hands graze back up over his chest, scarred fingers ghosting against bare skin to wrap around the back of his neck again, drawing him back into a firm kiss as he stepped out and away from his clothing. Their bodies rolled together: hips led, followed by flat abdomens, then breasts pressing firmly against a smooth chest, arms tangling together in organised chaos as their bodies tried to fuse as much as they could through undergarments.

His hands left their position on the wall, dragging back down her body to find her bra, undoing the clasp with a strange amount of ease; they fell further down to her ass, lifting her up, and Isabelle's legs automatically twined around his waist as she pressed herself against him with another laugh. It wasn't far to the bedroom from there.


End file.
